She Can Never Know
by professoranethesia
Summary: Anders is holding out on f!Hawke.


Time was ticking by torturously slow as the sun dragged through the sky over the Hanged Man. Hawke had insisted Anders, Sebastian, and Merrill meet her outside of the dingy joint at midday, but the only one that had failed to arrive yet was _her_. Anders was growing increasingly impatient (there were patients that needed him, after all!) and if Merrill and Sebastian got into a fight over the Maker and whatever else _again_ he was going to go mad. It was already bad enough that he be forced to endure the blood mage and the Chantry brother's presence, but dealing with them without Hawke to keep him sane? Well, that was just too bloody much.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the rogue finally made her appearance, skipping over like nothing in the world was amiss. "Alright," she announced cheerfully, as chipper as ever, "is everyone ready to go?"

Anders frowned broodily. "You're late," he pointed out, throwing in a huffy breath for good measure. Hawke glanced at him, seeming a bit surprised, and then peered up at the sun speculatively.

"What? Oh, sorry to keep you waiting. I just had to _pop_ over to the Blooming Rose, if you know what I mean," Hawke stated airily, wafting her hand through the air, as though she were swatting away Anders' pointed negativity.

The mage, startled by this admission, stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait, you go to the _brothel_?" he demanded, dumbfounded. Hawke glanced back over her shoulder nonchalantly, though when she saw that this revelation had given the healer pause, she turned around as well, crossing her arms over her bosom.

"Yeees," Hawke replied, drawing out the syllable as though to imply Anders were somehow the mad one. "I don't suppose you thought I was some sort of vestal virgin?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"N-no," Anders stuttered, despite the fact that he had, in fact, given Hawke's sexual history a great deal of thought, "I just didn't think that a... _woman_ like you... would have to pay someone to sleep with you." The healer laughed uncomfortably when he realized how completely awkward he was being. "Uh, if anything, they should be paying you!" he exclaimed, though upon realizing how that sounded, he quickly opened his mouth to restate his meaning. However, Anders was promptly interrupted.

"Why? You have some extra coin you need to spend?" Hawke asked sardonically, a smirk tugging on her lips when an absolutely abashed expression came over the mage's face. She burst into laughter at Anders' expense and leaned over to clap him on the shoulder. "I'm only joking; you needn't look so mortified. The truth is I haven't gotten laid in _weeks_. It used to be easier in the Red Iron, when I was surrounded by hot-blooded mercenaries looking to get their rocks off every moment of the day." Hawke sighed dramatically, shrugging animatedly despite the nearby Sebastian's apparent disapproval. "So, to the whorehouse I go. Dreadful, really, but what else can a girl do?"

"What about me?" Anders muttered offhandedly, though when Hawke gave him a discerning grin, the mage quickly amended his statement. "Or, erm, Fenris? Or Varric, for that matter?"

Hawke huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Everyone knows Varric likes Dwarven women," she retorted, dismissing the thought with a wave of the hand. "And honestly, if my only choices are between a virgin ex-slave with a chip on his shoulder and a sexually ambiguous abomination with the opposite chip on his shoulder, well, I'll stick with the whores, thank you so much," the rogue countered testily, once again beginning her strut towards Lowtown's market.

"I'm not sexually ambiguous," Anders replied sulkily, avoiding eye contact with the peeved choir boy and the clueless blood mage as he shuffled in line behind her, a frown marring his features.

"Karl," Hawke contradicted him, shooting the mage a knowing glance.

Oh, Andraste's knickers, not _this_ again. "I never slept with Karl!" Anders exclaimed, feeling heat rise to his face. "That was just an unfortunate misunderstanding!"

"_You_ were the one that said that you and he found _comfort_ in each other," Hawke reminded him, snickering immaturely at Anders' positively chagrinned expression.

"I didn't mean like _that_!"

"Well, you should've told me that _before_ I hired Jethann to, ahem, _sweep your chimney_," Hawke chuckled, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. Sebastian shook his head reproachfully, his hand flying to rub his temples irritably. And if he muttered some sort of prayer for Hawke's immortal soul, well, that certainly wasn't amiss, either.

Merrill frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Sweep his chimney? Wouldn't a chimneysweep be better suited to the task?" she questioned distractedly, too busy rifling through the trinket salesman's wares to really give the remark any expansive thought.

Anders sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head disdainfully. "I don't like men, Hawke. In fact, before Justice, I was quite the womanizer. In fact, back when I was a Grey Warden, I got on quite well with the Warden-Commander. And there was this Templar woman who always used to drag me back to the Circle-"

"Oooh! Isn't this the Tethras crest? Varric might like this," Hawke interjected, plucking a rather large golden ring from the depths of the trinket pile. Her happiness was quickly contained, however, when she caught Anders' murderous glare in her direction. She offered him a sheepish smile in apology. "Anders, you don't have to justify your sexuality to me. I understand things were... _difficult_ in the Circle. I'm not going to judge you for having liaisons with other men," Hawke said firmly, giving Anders a quick look over her shoulder as she scrabbled to pluck a few gold coins out of her purse.

"I've never been with a man!" Anders protested, his voice raising a few octaves. He crossed his arms over his feathery jacket, and the wrinkle between his brows deepened considerably. "Hawke, I'm straight. I've never _been_ with another man. If you can't trust my word, then maybe I shouldn't ever be here!" Anders snapped, digging his nails into his palms in aggravation.

Hawke seemed to realize that she'd touched a nerve and raised her hands, palms forward, in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright! I believe you, Anders. You're straight. Now could we please get out of here? If we don't hurry to the Chantry, we might not find Seamus before it gets too terribly dark out, and then the Viscount'll have a bloody fit," Hawke groused, slapping Anders on the back as she swaggered her way in front of the pack. "Bloody Qunari. Now I see where Fenris gets it from..."

As Hawke's voice trailed off and Anders silently fell into line behind Merrill and Sebastian, only one thought was running through his mind again and again: _she can never know..._


End file.
